I Am Somewhere
by Maddy6645
Summary: Quinn was married with plans for a future. Now alone, plagued by nightmares of a scream, she takes a pill and is taken back before the accident, but soon must choose between her love and her life. But addictions can be hard to overcome. Ev. Faberry


**(A/n So I kind of haven't written fanfic in a while (and by a while I mean almost a year) simply because college is screwing me over big time. I'm slowly returning to it because my exams are next week and afterwards I'll finally have time to write before the next ones come along. Hopefully, then I'll be able to finish They'll Never Know. I'm currently reading through it and working out where I'm going next with it, and correcting some horrible wording and mistakes, so I hope to start writing it again before this summer.**

** So this is something I've actually been working on for a school project but it began as a fanfic so I decided to restore it to that. It's not been beta-ed, but I hope my English a-level hasn't failed me too much.**

**Oh, and I know that you guys aren't stupid, but I just wanna clarify that scentences in italics are memories.**

**And if you could you give me some feedback after reading please? It would actually help with my university application (which this project is for) and I know you're all lovely so...**

**Enjoy!)**

**Full summary:** Two years ago, Quinn was married. She had a wife, a successful career, and plans for a family. Now she is alone and plagued by empty nightmares with a single blood-curdling scream; the shadows of her subconscious are ruining her. She can't remember. She can't remember the moment she lost her future, the moment that it was all torn from her. When her therapist prescribes pills to help her cope, Quinn is taken back to her last moments with her wife. But soon she must choose between seeing her dead lover in her dreams or her own health. But addictions can be hard to overcome…

* * *

Frightened hazel eyes flew open as the bloodcurdling scream echoed in her ears. Sweat cooled against her flushed skin as hands grasped at the sheets and her chest, trying to calm it from racing. Quinn tried desperately to remember what had frightened her, traumatized her, in her dream, but came up with nothing. It was as if it had been stolen, leaving a black hole in its absence. Just the scream.

Shakily, she unclenched her grip and let the sheet fall back to the bed, smoothing a hand over the damp, crumpled cotton. A beeping filled the room and she reached back to blindly fumble behind her and hit against the snooze button before walking to the bathroom to get ready for the day, tracing a hand reverently across the photo frame on her dresser as she went.  
Quinn felt numb, not an unfamiliar feeling during the last two years, as she went through her routine. Brush teeth, shower, dress, coffee, bagel, shoes, jacket, and leave. She hastily retrieved a pair of keys from the table beside the door as she went to exit the apartment and raised the same hand to open the latch. A small golden star key-ring caught her eye and she stilled on the metal lock, her palm resting on the cool steel. Slowly, Quinn put the keys back and hesitantly took her own ones that lay beside them and clutched them tightly, slamming the door behind her with a sigh.

The elevator dinged loudly to announce its arrival and upon entering Quinn pressed the ground button. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt a presence behind her. She span around quickly, hair whipping wildly with her motion, to see an empty lift. Her eyes were trained on the metal doors again as she felt it once more; a warmth against the right side of her back. Fingers wrapped tighter around the strap of her satchel as a weight pressed lightly on her shoulder and warm air brushed against her ear. She refused to turn again, knowing that she would still find the emptiness that lay behind her, and let herself believe that the presence really was the person she missed so much. Quinn hurried away from the elevator as it became too much for her to handle and her eyes began to brim with tears. The doors shut with a soft thud.

* * *

The cars sped past, spluttering out acrid fumes, mothers chattered aimlessly, pushing their prams of sleeping children. Rushing men and women shoved past her, destined for droll day jobs and if she listened closely, she was sure that there was a soft sound of birds from the nearby park. But that was drowned out by a bus roaring past. Feet pounded the pavement all around her, but her steps were soft, calculated even.

The streets that Quinn walked were both comforting and foreign at the same time. It was the same track trod each day, but with different companions. The Suits were all interchangeable, as were the mothers and joggers, even the heavy traffic. In fact, now that she considered it, swivelling her head slowly side to side; the people change, but never the scenario. The mob of smartly dressed sheep parting around her like a rock in a stream as Quinn stopped. She shook off an overwhelming urge to go back home and burrow into a book or something else relatively mind numbing to help her escape the loneliness that once more crept into her heart, but took a deep breath and moved on. She was surviving. Had done so for the last two years, but then again, that was because she was forced to; it wasn't by her own choice. Taking another cleansing breath, she lost herself in his music and trudged through the city.

The subway was… her wife had never liked it, Quinn remembered. She always made them catch a cab, no matter how far away, or the price for that matter. Why spend a couple of bucks on a quick train journey that may or may not smell like a homeless person's urine, when you could spend fifty on one 5 times as long in the congested New York traffic?

What would she think of her weekly train journeys?

A large man in a ridiculously tight sports outfit rubbed past her and Quinn grimaced at the slight moisture covering her hand now. She didn't think much of them, anyway. The man dropped a few coins for the ticket machine and Quinn considered sparing a few quarters from her pocket just so that the man didn't have to bend down and pick up his own. But she didn't. Quinn pushed through the turnstile and onto the platform, jostling past future fellow passengers to find a place to stand that was comfortably away from them all before getting on the arriving train. Today wasn't a day where she'd politely chat to an old woman that sat next to her, or remind a man who'd left a carrier bag of his lunch by his seat just before he gets off. It wasn't a day to smile at the young children, excited to be on a futuristic silver shuttle hurtling underneath the bustling city, or get up out of her seat for a tired looking business woman ready to faint from the sweaty armpit in her face. Not today.

She noticed that they were slowing down and people began to adjust themselves to leave. The moment the doors slid open, it was like a swarm of insects, all dressed in dark colours, like gnats, in and out. Carbon copies replacing those who had departed. Another woman with sweaty armpits in her face, another child bouncing on its toes and whipping its head around to see everything possible, another man with a bag of food, destined to see its rotting demise on the linoleum of the train floor, and another old lady with a polite smile at anyone who looked at her; the kind of woman that would delve a hand into her bag and pull out a boiled sweet for you, patting your shoulder as she left the train, wishing you a good day as she went. There was no originality in a subway car, only repetition. Quinn left the train at the next stop.

* * *

The building loomed over Quinn like a giant making her sway slightly on the spot. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed heavily. Take a deep breath, she told herself, just take a deep breath. An equally nervous looking man walked by her and through the revolving door, a gust of warm air flowing out and coating her. It served as a cleanser for her nerves and she approached the glass door.

The receptionist offered her a smile as she entered. She always offered her a smile. Her eye caught her name plate. She never did remember it.

"Good morning, Ms Fabray. I'll let Daniel know that you're on your way up." She didn't reply; just a nod, pressing her lips into a thin line. Then, as usual, the pity would seep into the woman's eyes at her silence. She hadn't ever spoken to her, not in the two years she'd been attending the office. Maybe she thought she was mute, that that was why she came once a week to see Daniel.

The woman raised her hand to lift a stray lock of hair that had fallen in her eye line, tucking it neatly behind her ear before doing it again as soon as she tilted her head down to look at the paper in front of her. She had the same pain in her eyes that Quinn held, though not as concentrated. A parent? A sibling?

Quinn awkwardly nodded once again as she realised that she had stood there longer than socially acceptable

By the time she had reached the 38th floor a slight drizzle had descended upon the city and the glass buildings reflected the dull, drab sky. The waiting room was one of the worst parts of these days. Her heart would remain beating, but in her throat, her stomach would turn itself over at any sound and her head pulsed heavily. With a shaking hand, she held a small paper cup under the faucet of the water tank and flicked the tap downwards, the water pouring a steady stream. When she turned it off, Quinn's eyes followed the bubbles as they rose upwards and found the sound of them forming soothing. Quickly finishing her drink, she took more just to hear them again. As she continued this, the pulsing in her head, the beating in her throat and the aerobics of her stomach began to subside. That is, until the office door flung open and a distraught woman hurried out, a man chasing her down, pleading his innocence of something. The air bubbles still sounded behind her as she saw the owner of the office scrub a hand over his face and take a deep breath. It seemed that he actually took his own advice, unlike the first therapist Quinn had tried.

The secretary got up and poked her head through the door way, muttering a message lowly to him. With a slight nod, she shut the door and turned to Quinn.

"Daniel will be with you in just a moment."

The unnerving pulsing re-started and Quinn turned to get another cup of water. She was admiring the air bubbles once more when a low voice pulled her out of her reverie.

"Quinn?"

She turned with a start. The doctor had a warm smile on his face and held the door open to his office with the other gesturing towards it in a welcoming gesture. Silently, she slipped past him and removed her jacket. With the coat on its peg by the door, Quinn walked slowly to the long black couch, her shoes scuffing the carpet lightly as she did. Daniel, with a deep sigh, took his seat to the right of it and pulled a file onto his lap along with a notepad and a pen. As he flicked through the file, the patient began to grow restless. She picked at various bits of fluff on her jeans, then a crease on her shirt that wouldn't smooth and then she began to trace the lines on the palm of her left hand before her fingers absentmindedly strayed to the fourth finger. They drew circles under the golden band before her thumb swept up to brush over it, smudging a bit of dirt away as she did.

Daniel flicked his eyes up to look over the top of his file. Quinn was playing with her wedding ring again; he jotted down, and then began to list notes about her demeanour. _Seems more nervous than last session, and much more distracted. Had to call name several times for attention before recognition. Focused on water tank? Water? Bubbles? Keeping up physical appearances still; bags under eyes. Nightmares? _He underlined the last word, as he had done on all of the other sessions in the manila folder. Quinn had mentioned them twice; once in her first session and then again on the first anniversary of the accident. She had quickly changed subject, something else Daniel had taken note of, and refused to mention it since, even storming out at one point when he had pushed too far. Quickly scribbling the date and time in the top right hand corner of his page, he placed the folder onto the desk beside him and linked his hands, resting them on his crossed left leg.

"Something's different."

Quinn retracted her hand from her left like it had been burned when Daniel's voice cut through the silence. They clenched reflexively before she rubbed his palms over her jean clad thighs.

"I can't say that I can tell you what."

She didn't lift her eyes. The stain that was on the carpet last session, the one shaped like Nixon's profile, had been cleaned. It was on the third ring in on the rug out of 7 rings of different toned blues. It was on the lighter ring.

"Nothing? Nothing has changed since last session?"

The eyes were still trained downwards, staring at where Daniel had spilled the remnants of his coffee last week with a furrowed brow.

"Not that I know of."

Most of the office was blue. Her wife had styled their first bedroom like that. She had told her that it was a cool colour, but also calm. It was when they had just moved in together in Brooklyn, scraping together what they could from their feeble pay checks. Quinn had always liked blue; it was her favourite colour.

"How's Max?"

Daniel watched as a ghost of a smile graced Quinn's face at the mention of her dog. It was all she had left of her, and she treasured him more than anything. As he expected, Quinn's smile soon faded as the memories began to seep back, her eyes watering as they blazed through her head, scorching her entire body.

"He still thinks that my shoes are the best chew toys, no matter what I get him."

They had gotten Max when they had moved to their second home. She had just gotten a promotion from chorus and had been begging Quinn for ages. The moment those brown eyes lit up she couldn't remember any reason why she had resisted for so long. Until two days later and Max's affinity for locating and destroying expensive shoes had made it's presence known that is.

"I suppose you can't always teach an old dog new tricks."

Daniel took the pause in the conversation as a moment to scour Quinn's features closer. Two years and the woman had hardly changed. He'd think it were unfair for her to stay so youthful if he didn't know how much she had aged mentally and emotionally. The young outside was well into old age within.

"How have you been sleeping?"

Daniel subtly held his breath.

"8 hours, 11 till 7, 7 days a week." The answer was monotonous, rehearsed even, and they both knew it.

"Not how long, Quinn. I mean… have you had any dreams lately?"

"No."

Daniel took a deep breath and steeled himself.

"What about your wife, no dreams about her?" Molten hazel eyes bore into him and Quinn's head shot up. Her stance remained the same, elbows rested against her thighs and hands held out, clasped together, but her knuckles were white and her gaze, deadly. Daniel took a deep breath. "I know that yo-"

"Stop." Quinn cut in.

"Qui-"

"Stop."

Silence encompassed them both as they both formulated their thoughts. Daniel fiddled with his pen and Quinn averted her eyes to scan his office. A dark teak desk stood boldly beside the bright window that covered the entire far wall. The couch she sat on was parallel with the line of the wall behind her and adjacent to the glass. Daniel sat in front of his desk on a sleek black leather chair, similar to the one she resided on. The desk behind him was neat, the sun streaming over it, catching on the various knickknacks. A Newton's cradle, a writing set, a few photo frames, and a brass compass all reflected light onto various spots of the room. A bookcase covered the entire wall opposite Quinn, filled with books on therapy and various classic novels. Interspersed with the tomes were a few small brass busts of famous scholars and some naval navigational devices. His office was one of the reasons Quinn wanted Daniel to be her therapist. She walked in and was immediately at home within a workplace that clearly displayed a fascination of classics. The novels, the brass artefacts, and the trio of photographs of 1920's New York on the space behind the sofa. Quinn had never asked why he had collected such items; of course her wife would have pushed her to do so. She would have told her to try and ask about his interests, that there was no point in building walls and parameters between them both if it was his job to knock them down.

_ "You always hold people at arms length, baby. All that's going to get you is tired arms, you know." _

_ "It's easier to stand with someone than to push them away." _

She had always had a phrase to roll off when Quinn began to revert to the cold ways her parents had instilled in her as a child. She wasn't always poetic about it though. Her favourite was; _"I always found your 'don't give a damn' act pretty attractive, but this isn't high school anymore. You're going to get slapped around the face if you keep it up."_

Daniel watched her as she took in his office for the hundredth time. He could see Quinn pulling back as the seconds ticked past, his window of opportunity closing.

"Did you hear it again, Quinn? Did you hear her?"

Quinn held her wife's words in her head and gritted out a few syllables from her clenched jaw.

"I- you- she… I can't." The words were stilted, as if they physically pained her as they crawled from her throat. "Ye-" She snapped his jaw shut as the admission began to fall from her mouth. It was enough for Daniel.

"How's work then?"

* * *

Quinn lay on her bed; eyes wide open as dawn broke across the city. Warmth slowly spread across her face as the sun rose from behind the towering skyscrapers. The rays ricocheted from building to building, glancing off each pane of glass, until it streaked onto her features. She hadn't slept a wink. She didn't want to hear her.

The sheets lay tangled at her feet as the heat had overwhelmed her in the night and the shirt she had had on was flung haphazardly towards the laundry basket. With a deep sigh, she craned her head to the side to the red numbers on the bed side table. She slipped her arm over the cold sheets that covered the empty right hand side of the bed. Trying to remember, she closed his eyes. It had been so long ago that it was becoming a strain, but it was there still; a faint memory that warmed her to the core.

Suddenly, beneath her palm, there was a warmth. There was a slight dip where a body had resided for so long, and a faint smell of honey lingered on the pillow beside her. For a short moment, she was back.

"Rae…" Her voice croaked out into the empty room.

The silence responded with a light giggle from another room. Quinn let herself believe.

She jumped from the bed and bounded for the door, stumbling over the mess she had left. Fingers grasped the doorframe as she scanned the room frantically. The giggle sounded again from another room and so she followed. She followed the faint laugh to every room before she stopped by the large window in the living room. With a soft thump, she rested her forehead against the cool glass. The quiet laughter soon faded away as reality set in again.

* * *

"I heard it again."

The sound of a pen scratching across paper stopped and Daniel flicked his eyes upwards from the folder in his lap. He had just written half a page about her week, and another half about her continued avoidance tactics to join the stack he'd written in the time since she began seeing him. She usually diverted the conversation at this point and rambled about what was in the paper the day before, or some menial gossip about a colleague, but the tone in her voice told him that she was about to go further than she ever had.

"I see nothing, I hear nothing else, but I wake up like I've ran a marathon with her scream in my head."

She looked up from her firmly clasped, trembling hands to catch Daniel's gaze.

"And then in the elevator, I felt her again. I feel her there every day. She was standing behind me, just like she did when we were on the way to see a show. She stood behind me, and then began to tease me." A soft smile graced Quinn's face as she lost herself in the memory.

"Front row tickets to Wicked. We caught a taxi but got caught in traffic at park and 43rd and had to run through the rain to the nearest subway, but she forgot her money; she'd grabbed her purse with her English money from her last business trip. She gave our tickets to a couple walking past. I told her we could make it, but she didn't care; she just wanted to be with me, she said, she just wanted to spend the night in my arms after being away for two weeks. So we went back. We went back to our apartment and spend the whole night…" Quinn sighed deeply. "And now all that's left of her is her scream. I can't remember the last time I saw her face, the last time I saw her beautiful eyes. Just darkness and her screaming."

Tears flowed freely and Daniel pushed a box of tissues towards her with a sympathetic look before quickly taking his hand back to scribble.

"She always shocked me like that. In high school, she was pretty manic about Broadway. I don't think I could ever have seen her giving away front row tickets to see Kurt perform at the Gershwin with guaranteed backstage access, but she did because she loved me. She would have fought endlessly to get to that theatre, but when she put Elphaba up against me, she… God, she chose me every time. No matter what, she chose _us._

The apartment closer to my office, the mattress that helped my back, even my favourite gaming system even though she had an addiction to Mario Kart. She put me above everything, and what did I do? I can't even _fucking_ remember! This is the beginning, I know it. This is gone, and soon everything else will go. It'll be as if she was never here."

Quinn jumped to her feet with her hands tangled in her hair.

"I can't lose her again. All I have left is… I have nothing but these memories. I have nothing without her, even if it is thinking about how she loved it when I made her breakfast for when she got out of the shower." She began to pace frantically. Daniel moved his pen faster, desperately trying to keep up with his brain's interpretations of her actions.

_Finally breaks._ He wrote it in capitals with an underline with arrows pointing to 'dream' and the date of the appointment.

"When she told me that she'd been going to a therapist since she was a kid, I laughed at her. I _laughed_ because she thought she had something so wrong with her that she needed a therapist. I told her that she was perfect and that only fucked up people go to see a therapist. I laughed it off, but look at me." She pounded a fist against her chest. "_Look at me_. All I am is a _fucking_ hypocrite. I should have supported her, I should've come with her when she wanted to go to a joint session, but I fucking laughed again. I thought she was joking and walked away. Is this karma? Is that what this is? I denied her then, so they took her away and made me so messed up in the head that I rely on it now? Why did I deserve this? Why did she deserve this?"

Daniel was quiet.

"Who is 'they'?"

"I don't know, God, Buddha, Yahweh, the Cosmos? I don't know! I… I don't know…" Defeated, she slumped back on to the black leather sofa. The steam had run out and Quinn felt herself lose herself to the blackness of her dream for a moment, the scream sounding again. "What did I do that was so wrong that they took her from me? I had her for such a short time. She said that she was mine for the rest of her life; why couldn't that be forever?"

He didn't know what to say to that. Should he tell her that life is short? Placate her? Question her? He knew that probing this particular area would only force her back into the hole that she'd peeked out of last week, but had resided in for the last 4 months since her birthday. Or… what would have been her birthday.

"You never say her name, why is that?"

Quinn raised her head slowly.

"Is it so hard to say Ra-?"

"Do _not_ say her name. You didn't know her. You weren't in her life; she wasn't a part of you. You have _no_ right to say her name."

Daniel could see his window closing as it did every week, but understood that forcing her to keep it open wouldn't aid her in this session. They had made progress; it wouldn't be worthwhile if she just ran back to her rabbit hole. He grabbed his prescription pad.

"I've never thought that you needed anything before; but I think it's time."

"Time for what?"

"A little bit of help. Get you away from these dreams to help you clear your head. Maybe then the memory of the accident will come back to you." He tacked on the ending as a persuasion; praying that she'd accept. "It's a newer drug, just passed FDA testing, but other patients are saying that it's worked wonders for them. I'll write you enough until our next session, and then we'll see how you're doing."

With a loud tear, he passed her the slip and stood. They both walked noiselessly to the door of his office and she slipped on her jacket, hung on a rack beside it. It was as she went to slip the paper into her pocket that she finally spoke.

"Thank you, Dr. Sloane."

"You know, my other patients call me Daniel."

"It's proper to call an official by their surname. Only those that you have a personal relationship should be referred to by their first name. In 6 years of marriage, she taught me that much." A slight grin graced her face. "That and whoever finishes the coffee has to make the next pot."

* * *

"_Don't think you're off the hook, young lady!"_

Quinn heard it in Rachel's voice, but saw someone else when she turned to answer.

"We were supposed to meet, weren't we?"

"Supposed to meet? It's our bi-weekly coffee date, Q. I only get these few hours away from the office or the kids. We never miss it. Of _course_ we were supposed to meet. What the _fuck_ happened?"

Santana rounded the sofa and saw Quinn, her heart breaking at the sight. She was curled in on herself, staring at the coffee table. The necklace that usually lay against Quinn's chest sat there, the two rings lying atop each other, strung onto the gold chain. Next to it was an unopened bottle of pills and next to that was an open bottle of scotch with an empty glass beside it.

"Shit, Q. It's 3 in the afternoon."

"Why do think I'm waiting? Only two hours left until it's acceptable."

"So you thought you'd stand me up?"

"Oh. We were supposed to meet, weren't we?"

"You alre-" Santana took a deep breath and exhaled, letting the tension fade from her shoulders. It wasn't time to be angry at her. She knew what date it was. "Yeah, we were. But don't worry, I came over instead."

"Only two hours left."

"I know, Q. Do you want me to wait with you?"

"_Do you want me to wait with you?"_

"_Don't worry, baby, you go ahead; you've got a meeting. I'll stay here and wait, I'll just fill you in later."_

"_Only if you're sure, Nala"_

"_Make sure the cab goes by 9__th__, you know how congested 7__th__ gets this time of year." _

"Q?"

The tears began again.

"We- we- were… gonna… get… it… it _right._" Her words were broken with sobs, and it was a sight Santana had gotten accustomed to; a realization that tore at her. She sat beside her and pulled Quinn into her side. Firing off a text to her assistant, she rubbed her shoulder with one hand and stroked her hair with the other.

"Do you remember when she dragged you to church because you hadn't been in a whole month?"

"Senior year?"

"Yeah, you'd been shacked up in her bedroom every Sunday, telling Mama Fabray that you were visiting a different church, and went to the hobbit's instead." She chuckled darkly. "I supposed you _were_ still calling out the Lord's name in praise." Quinn smacked her thigh hard as she went on to make fake moaning sounds despite it sparking a smirk on her face and stopping her tears.

"Unnn… Rach… Ohhh… Godddddd… Yes! Rach, God! Right there! Mmmmmm…"

"Shut up!" She laughed.

"I came over to borrow her English notes one time, you know. Never pegged you for a screamer, Q-tip. Almost made me wanna give Berry a test-run for myself. I guess all that yappin' _would_ strengthen a girl's tongue, hmm."

"You wouldn't have dared." Her shot a heated gaze at Santana that would have burned anyone else, but she just laughed it off.

"_Anyway_, she told me that she was gonna have to drag you there, after accidentally detailing what you'd done the weekend before, and said that she didn't care if she caught fire once she stepped on holy ground, or got splashed with holy water like some possessed girl, she would force you onto your knees if she had to. Of course, you had her on her knees when you got back from service." She added with an exaggerated wink.

"San!"

"You were right; it was dangerous to let us be friends. Don't think I won't use the story about the photo booth in the airport for blackmail next time I want a babysitter."

"You have no proof that that actually happened."

"You wanna chance it?"

Quinn grumbled and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

"You know, doing that doesn't make it look like you're angry, it just looks like you're pushing your breasts up, and I'm taking that as an advance. We're friends Q, and I'm married. This is highly inappropriate although highly welcome an-"

A hand smothered her mouth as Quinn tackled her sideways, laughing. They wrestled and Quinn won her way to straddling her hips, her hand still firmly pressed over Santana's rambling mouth.

"-not saying that there weren't any dirty dreams about you when you were a Cheerio, but everyone had them… this doesn't help either you know. Maybe I should tell Britt that you pinned me down and physically restrained me."

"Oh please, she'd ask you to tape it next time."

Santana gave her a look that suggested her debating the topic, before they both burst into laughter. Quinn removed herself from Santana and offered a hand to lift her to her feet.

"C'mon, B's cooking tonight and I know that Sugar and Heath'd love to see their Auntie _Quim_."

"Will you stop calling me that?"

"I'm just referencing my kids."

"I wonder who they take after, hmm?"

"The postman." She deadpanned.

"As if you'd cheat on B."

Santana's voiced faded as she strode down the hallway to the elevator.

"Oh, who said that the postman was someone else? There's such a thing as role play, sweetie."

"_There's such a thing as role play, sweetie."_

"_But I'm uncomfortable enough as myself, think of me as someone else."_

"_Oh, I am." She chuckled huskily._

"Hurry up, Blondie! Get your fat ass in gear already."

* * *

Quinn dropped to the sofa with a loud thump, stomach down, letting her limbs fall wherever as her eyelids drooped.

"How do you _do this_ day to day?" Her voice was muffled by a throw pillow so it actually came out; "Hah duh yuh _duh thih_ duh to duh?"

When Brittany didn't answer, Quinn looked up to see her confused face and repeated with a smile.

"Lots of wine."

They both laughed. Santana strode in and jumped over the back of the couch, landing firmly on Quinn's backside, a loud moan emitting from Santana's makeshift seat. After a lot of wriggling and snapping at each other, Santana wrestled Quinn's body until her feet were resting over her lap and her own were stretched out to the edge of the coffee table. They sat in silence for a while, quietly sipping on their drink and the blonde felt herself dropping off. She felt the darkness of her dream begin to take her when voices stole her from the shadowy depths.

"You should've seen her today, B." Santana's voice was a whisper, but loud enough to tell her that they both thought she was asleep.

"I thought therapy was supposed to help."

Quinn heard only silence, so she assumed Santana was shaking her head in disagreement.

"I don't know what it's doing, but I'm not sure about helping. Every time I see her she's a little bit more lost. She comes over here and it's a little bit better, but… I just want our Quinn back." Her voice was thick, her eyes full of tears. The pillows on the seat dipped as Brittany took a seat beside her wife.

"I think you mean that you want Rachel back."

"Don't they mean the same thing?" Santana cried softly. The grip on Quinn's feet slackened and then was lost as she held her wife, crying, not for the first, nor the last time, for one of her best friends. When the sniffles began to die down, Quinn shifted in her pretend sleep. She spun herself around and snuggled into the pillow on Santana's lap, wrapping and arm around her knees comfortably as she did. A hand threaded through her hair and kneaded the skin there.

_ Quinn purred as Rachel's hands scratched at her skin. They were sat on the balcony, looking over the New York skyline._

"_Rach, if you didn't live in New York, where would be your dream home?"_

_ She took a moment to think. "Where would be yours?"_

"_I asked you first." Quinn teased._

"_Just answer the question."_

"_Well, I'd live… in Paris."_

"_Then my dream place would be in Paris."_

Quinn's head snuggled further into the pillow as if it would protect her as her dream finally took her. A hand shook her shoulder as her breathing evened out, as if it knew where she was falling into, and was pulling her out. Quinn opened her eyes and met warm brown ones above her.

"Wakey, wakey, rise and shine." Santana laughed, it not reaching her eyes entirely.

"_Wakey, wakey, rise and shine!"_

_ Quinn groaned as she rolled onto her front, trying desperately to block out the sun, pulling the duvet over her head as she moved. The cover was wrenched from her grasp and she gasped loudly as the cool air washed over her bare skin._

"_Fucking hell, Rach!" She still didn't move._

"_We've got to meet the doctor today, Nala. Time to get your ass in gear." Rachel laughed as she brought her hand down to emphasis her point. Quinn moaned as she threw a hand back to soothe her red skin._

"_My ass won't get in gear if you spank it, God. I may just stay here now."_

_ They both knew she was just playing with her, stalling until she was forcibly removed from the bed and pushed towards the shower._

"_Lucy Quinn Fabray, I swear to all that is holy; if you don't get out of this bed right now I'll… I will never allow any meat products inside this apartment ever again."_

_ Quinn rushed towards the shower._

"Looks like it's home time, huh?" Quinn sighed, and stretched as she sat up. "I'd say thanks for having me over, but then again I got macaroni glued to my arm and a glitter shower, so I think the thanks are on your end for looking after those terrors."

"Thanks, Q… Love you, y'know." The words held much more weight than making dried pasta photo frames with the twins.

* * *

**(A/n Umm... ta da? I don't know how long this is gonna be, but at this length I can't see it going into, or at most too far into, the teens in terms of chapters. Just a forewarning.**

**Review?)**


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